


the noise that keeps me awake

by ashers_kiss



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: (definitely), (probably), 5 Times, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, y'know...all the normal Killjoys stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:17:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashers_kiss/pseuds/ashers_kiss
Summary: Lady!Party Poison/Lady!Gee, five times they fought, and one time they kissed and made up.





	the noise that keeps me awake

**Author's Note:**

  * For [akamine_chan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamine_chan/gifts), [Ande](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ande/gifts).



> Backstory: _Years_ ago, Aka asked me for a sequel to [she's a total blam-blam](http://ashers-kiss.livejournal.com/7255.html), with the prompt above. And I got most of it written and then...stalled. Then My Chem did their thing, and I...decided throwing myself wholeheartedly into other fandoms was the best way to cope, fannishly. *hands*
> 
> Then the other day I was looking for something on my external, and I found this, mostly finished. I decided to finish it off, because hey, Aka deserves it, and because it would be nice to at least try and wrap up _something_ from the bandom days.
> 
> Admittedly, my head is so not in a Killjoys headspace anymore (remember when this stuff used to just trip off my tongue, writing wise? Wow), but I did my best to work with what I had and the notes and dialogue I'd sketched out, and give it an ending that was true to them. (Though there was originally going to be sex. I apparently can no longer write sex. Hmph.) I hope it worked!
> 
> So yeah, this is a story where My Chem and the Killjoys are separate people, existing in the Killjoys world, where Poison and GWay are queer ladies, because...why the bloody hell not? :)
> 
> Warnings for everything in the tags, and also bear in mind: this is five times they fight. Poison, at least, is not particularly _nice_ , and Goddess knows, Gee's no saint. They might not seem the healthiest of relationships, but they mean it.
> 
> Also, I have always, always headcanoned Agent Cherri Cola as Kristen Morrison at the end of the Sing video. Y'all can just deal with it.
> 
> Title from [Push It](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pmd3UiNfNkA) by Garbage.

1\. Poison’s drinking

Gee’s had her fair share of problems with the demon drink, Poison knows. (Hell, the first time they met, Gee was more liquid than person.) And she’s proud of her for kicking it, and the pills, another boot to BL/ind. But that doesn’t mean Poison can’t have her own fun.

Ghoul’s got his arm over her shoulder, Poison’s tight around his waist. She fucking loves Ghoul, and she tells him. His stupid loud laugh and his stupid hair and fuck, fuck him for thinking he can keep up with her, fuck _him_. Ghoul laughs, and they go crashing into a wall. Poison’s pretty sure she’ll feel that in the morning, but for now? Now it’s the funniest shit to ever happen to her.

They’re loud and probably gonna wake up the kid, and Jet will spend all day bitching at them for it, and Poison doesn’t care. Can’t make herself care. The booze was cheap and tasted like shit until they drank enough that they couldn’t taste it anymore, and all the pretty bright colours were sliding together in front of her eyes. They got themselves tossed out on their asses – Ghoul promised to blow the place up, throwing rocks after them even as he tripped over his own damn feet. All Poison could do was lie in the dirt and laugh up at the sky.

Now she’s still laughing, and there’s a voice, a huff, “Jesus, look at the state of you.” Poison’s gut goes tight, because she knows that voice, she _wants_ so sudden and fierce her knees want to give out on her, pieces of shit, and Ghoul’s laughing now, untangling them, shoving her away.

“You’re in trouble now,” he sings, and then he’s gone. Poison stumbles to where Gee’s sat in a booth, scowling at her, and it makes sense to sit on the floor in front of her. She gives her best, brightest smile, says, “Hi babe,” and tries pulling at Gee’s hoodie.

It doesn’t work, it’s not coming _off_ , and Poison’s too busy glaring at it to notice Gee’s unfolding her arms until she’s pulling Poison to her feet again, dragging her to the back room – when did her girl get so _strong_? Gee dumps her in the nest of a bed Poison’s made for herself, for them, ever since she claimed this room as her own, ducks away from Poison’s hands when she reaches for her.

“Baby,” Poison says, and it doesn’t quite sound right, like someone wrung her out and her tongue’s too big for her mouth, “darlin’, _Gee_ – ”

 _“Don’t,”_ Gee snaps. Poison closes her eyes, expects Gee to lie down next to her. The door slams, and Poison’s asleep before she hears the van’s creaky shitty engine start up.

2\. Poison’s nightmares

Poison lights up one of the cigarettes she swiped from Ghoul’s back pocket and blows smoke at the stars. Her hands still shake, and she fucking hates it.

And then Gee’s there, sitting herself down next to Poison and burrowing into her side. The desert’s bone-cold at night, and she only had on that tent she calls a t-shirt when Poison left her in the back room. Poison can’t imagine she’s put on much else under the blanket she’s wrapped herself up in, and it’s enough of an excuse for her to lift her arm and pull her close. Her smile feels stretched and too sharp. “Hey baby girl.”

Gee hums, takes the smoke and pulls a long drag. Her eyes are mostly closed, lashes long on her cheek. She’s real fucking pretty like this, starlight-pale and lips still swollen blood red from earlier.

Then she says, “You wanna talk about ’em?” soft, like that makes a difference, and Poison’s shoving her away, getting to her feet and off, out, away, far away from the diner and Gee and questions, fucking _questions_. Poison bares her teeth at the desert and _dares_ the desert, the sky, the whole fucking universe to come at her, come at her _right the fuck now_.

3\. Gee’s jealousy

Poison and Cherri had themselves a thing, years ago, back when Poison was still soft and fresh around the edges. Cherri was what she wanted to be, hard and lean, gun in hand before you could blink. Poison spent hours in that van, fucked hard against any surface they could. Things went south, they couldn’t go any other way, but they’ve made their peace, saved each other’s ass a few more times than either would like to count. They’ve even hooked up, once or twice. (Not since her and Gee, though; Poison’s never said it out loud, but every time they meet Cherri gives her a look, a twist of the lips like she’s laughing at her. Poison blows her a kiss back every time, and Cherri laughs, rough from where Korse got too close once and Poison was too far away. Dr D had his work cut out for him that night, but he and his magic fingers still managed to stitch her up and put her back as shiny as ever.) Poison still has the scar from being shoved up against the burning metal heat of the grill.

Point is, with Cherri, everything they say and do is wound up and twisted through with sex, with mouths and hands and noises the good citizens of the City don’t think anyone should be hearing (and more fool them, Poison thinks, their fucking loss and more for her to enjoy). Ghoul and Kobra have _both_ asked her if they’re still fucking, and it’s just getting insulting now.

She’s never told Gee about Cherri, about them. Doesn’t see the point. It’s past, Cherri’s just someone she trusts at her back, to get them shit they can’t get their hands on themselves. (It’s Cherri she goes to for clean paper for Gee, good quality shit that’s gotta to come straight from BL/ind’s offices, because Cherri has something over Tommy Chow Mein she won’t share for sex or money.) And she really doesn’t need to be dealing with Gee’s jealousy. Gee’s fucking _possessive_ , who the hell knew? Poison watches her, sometimes, likes the way it thrills down her spine to know that Gee’s hooking her hand around Poison’s wrist, kissing her like _that_ , to warn people off. Her girl is something fierce, and it’s hot as hell and fun to boot, but sometimes it’s fucking _tiring_ , and Poison does not need that shit with Cherri.

So of course, of _course_ , it’s fucking Toro who sees them together at market, Toro who hates Poison like she took out his own mother in front of him. Toro who probably wastes no time telling Gee how Cherri leaned back against the hood of her own fucking van, arms folded and smile slow and lazy. How Poison had her hand braced right by Cherri’s shoulder and was all up in her space, because Cherri’s a tall motherfucker and never gets bored of rubbing it in.

“This is cosy,” comes from behind them, and oh, Poison knows that voice, knows that _tone_. She takes a breath and turns, lets her smile dazzle and say, _do not fucking dare_ , all at once. “Hey there, motorbaby. When did you show?”

Gee looks unimpressed. Or pissed. Probably pissed, and Poison is so not in the fucking mood. “About an hour ago. Ray told me you were here.”

“Of course he did,” Poison mutters. They’re gonna have words, her and Toro. Again. Possibly involving her gun digging in somewhere soft. Till then, Gee’s looking between Poison and Cherri, expression darker by the second, and Poison just knows the look on Cherri’s face, and really, why the fuck does she involve herself with these people? She snags Gee’s arm, pulls her close and wraps an arm around her waist. “This is possibly the sanest person you’ll ever meet out in the dust, baby, and Korse is still pissed he lost her. Gives me great pleasure to introduce you Agent Cherri Cola. Cherri, this is Gee.”

She doesn’t have to say anything else. Gee and her boys are making a name for themselves, loud enough that there’s talk of their own Wanted posters. (Poison had been so fucking proud when she heard, and scared shitless, that she fucked Gee hard and held on tight after, long after Kobra and the others had expected her back.) Cherri knows who she is, and the way she’s looking tells Poison she knows more than Poison ever wanted anyone to know. If she’s real honest, it’s the reason she’s kept them apart so long.

All Cherri does is salute Gee with two fingers, though. Gee manages, “It’s a pleasure,” before she shrugs off Poison’s arm and walks away, calling back over her shoulder, “If you want me, come find me.”

Poison lets out a breath and tips her head back against the van. Cherri doesn’t even pretend she isn’t laughing at her when she says, “You’re fucked, red.”

4\. Poison’s over-protectiveness (in her own way)

When that dirty little zone rat spits in Gee’s face, calls her a whore, Poison has him on the floor of the Fuck You and her hand tight on his balls before he can take another breath. If he’s lucky, it won’t be his last. Her gun fits awfully nice and snug under his chin. “You’re goin’ to apologise to the lady,” she tells him, voice gone all soft and low, and she can hear Jet somewhere behind them, saying her name over and over, like that’s gonna stop her, “or I’m going to rip these off slow as I can and make you eat them one at a time. You with me?”

He gives her the wide eyes, because he didn’t know, he’s sorry, he wouldn’t have, and that’s not fucking _good enough_. She yanks hard, lets her lips curl as he goes higher. “To the lady,” she repeats, digs her gun into the soft beneath his jaw.

And then he’s babbling, to Gee this time, and Poison still wants to tear him apart. She twists hard before she stands, listens to him yowl and gets in one last fist to his face that she’s pretty sure breaks his nose. His friends drag him away before she can do anything else, so it’s going to have to do.

Except when she turns round, Gee’s glaring at her. She lifts her chin and turns without a fucking word, pushes her way through the crowd, and Poison’s always been the stupid kind of stubborn, so she follows.

She catches Gee’s arm as soon as she’s close – her girl is _fast_ when she’s mad, and if the snarl twisting her pretty mouth is anything to go by, she’s fucking livid right now. It’s sexy as all hell, and Poison’s just about to tell her that when she spits out, “I was _handling_ that.”

Poison lifts an eyebrow. “Sure you were, baby. And a damn fine job you were doing too.”

“Don’t fucking _patronise_ me,” Gee growls, wrenching her arm free and hunching her shoulders. There’s space around them now, the crowd getting away as fast as they can, and Poison bares her teeth at the ones brave enough, dumb enough to meet her eyes. “I don’t need you to fight my battles,” Gee says, and it’s quieter, calmer – or it would be, if not for her glare. She looks up at Poison through her hair, and there’s murder in her eyes, burning hot and bright for anyone to see.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” It slips out Poison’s mouth before she can think. Gee’s eyes flash, and for a second Poison thinks she might actually try to hit her. Instead she sucks in a breath and spins off, around and out the door, and Party Poison doesn’t _chase after_ anyone, so she heads for the bar and knocks back three shots of something lethal that probably weren’t for her. The kid takes one look at her hair and her gun and doesn’t fucking argue, and finally, _someone_ who knows to keep their mouth shut.

5\. Gee gets herself in a little bit of trouble (but she gets herself out!) and Poison gets pissed

When the story reaches the Killjoys, Poison doesn’t stop to think. She’s driving before she realises, hands tight on the wheel and rage running white-hot through her veins faster than anything the City ever cooked up. She’s shaking by the time she reaches the motel. The brakes scream when she slams them, and she barely remembers to turn the damn engine off.

Gee and her boys are gathered in the lobby, and Poison doesn’t stop, grabs Gee by the arm and drags her along. Someone – maybe Toro, maybe Bob – tries to stop her, gets in her way and Poison _snarls_ , because she will fucking cut every single one of them if they even _think_ about stopping her, touching her.

Then there’s a door to slam and Gee to throw up against a wall, it’s an old storeroom maybe, not a lot of room, but enough to see the swell of Gee’s burst lip. There’s purple under her eye and blood on her cheek and all she does is meet Poison’s eyes with something dangerous glinting in hers, and Poison’s fucking _had it_ with this shit. “The fuck did you think you were _doing_?” It could be a hiss, it could be a scream, Poison doesn’t know and she doesn’t care. The words are enough of an effort.

Gee lifts her chin, eyes sparking, and oh, Poison wants to hit her. Her fists clench until torn-edged nails bite into her palms. “I did what I had to.” Gee’s voice is soft, level, and it grates on every nerve Poison has.

“What you – _Bullshit_. You need to get over this motherfuckin’ hero complex, darlin’ – ”

“They needed _help_ ,” Gee hisses, and there it is, that’s it. The satisfaction curls through Poison, chasing the anger, and it’s good, better than sex, and Poison can feel her grin, sharp and vicious and Gee is going to cut herself on it, throw herself right on to it and Poison _wants_ her to. “They needed help, and where were the Killjoys? Wheeling and dealing, like always, like it’s not your fucking _job_ to look after these people – ”

“ _Job?_ Baby, I dunno where you get your intel from, but this ain’t a _job_ – ” 

“You _promised_ ,” and that, that’s a scream. Gee shoves her, hard, so Poison crashes into the door. “You promised them, _I_ promised them, something better, something _good_ , and all you’re interested in is a good time – ”

“If I wanted a good time I wouldn’t have stuck with you so long, would I?”

“Oh fuck you, fuck _you_ – ”

“No, babe, fuck _you_ , you have _no idea_ – ”

“You’re right, I fucking _know_ – ”

“ – what we do out there, you think you can just wander into the middle of that shit? We had it _covered_ , and you go in and get yourself cut up – ”

“I was _trying to help_ – ” Gee’s hands, tight in the front of Poison’s shirt – 

“How about you don’t fuckin’ bother next time, you _stupid_ little – ”

Then the door’s wrenched open, and Poison’s turned before she even hears Frank say, “Hey, _hey_ , knock it the fuck off, Poison,” and Gee’s “It’s fine, Frank, we’re fine, just go, please.” She’s got her fist in Frank’s gut before Gee finishes saying “please”, shoving him back and _away_ so she can close the fucking door, because this, this isn’t for them, this is her and Gee and it’s _theirs_. Gee’s on her in the next second, sending them both crashing to the floor and yes, _yes_. Poison buries her hand in Gee’s hair and _pulls_ even as Gee’s teeth set into her arm.

It’s vicious, it’s nails and teeth and fists and Gee even manages a knee to Poison’s kidneys. Poison spits blood at her and grins down, laughs until she thinks she’s gonna hurl, and Gee doesn’t stop.

Eventually Poison ends up on her back, arms spread as Gee holds her down just like Poison taught her, and Poison’s still laughing. And then – then the fire goes out of Gee’s eyes, leaving them hollow, and that hurts more than any hit she landed. Poison chokes on her laughter, and Gee sits back.

“Fuck. You,” she says again, slow and flat. She clambers to her feet, gone before Poison takes her next breath.

It’s Bob who says, “You need to go,” watches as Poison pushes herself up and follows her out the door. There’s no one else around, and Poison doesn’t look back.

1\. Making up from the last fight.

She lasts a week.

Seven measly fuckin’ days, and it’s like a bad case of pill-shakes, Poison aching and hollow in the pit of her gut and the base of her skull. She drinks the first two days away, nothing but a solid blur of colour and none of it right, but all that does is leave her hanging over the old kitchen sink with the kid’s tiny hands holding back her hair as best she can. Kobra takes over at one point, hands at her forehead and the back of her neck, miraculously cool, and Poison closes her eyes.

(If she presses her face to his neck for all of a second before he pulls her to her feet, if he pushes a hand though her hair, no one’s stupid enough to ever mention it.)

She doesn’t sleep, can’t sleep, snatches of screams chasing each other round her brain. She closes her eyes, and Gee’s staring back at her, flat and empty. It’s fucking pathetic.

Except she’s Party fucking Poison, and she’s sick of this shit. She goes trading with Jet, drags Ghoul along to taunt patrols into chasing them (not like either of them ever need much persuading). At night she dances, slides hands further than they should go and coaxes out information with a hot mouth against ears. She beats the shit out of a Drac for the hell of it, and snarls at any wavehead stupid enough to put sticky fingers near her. Ghoul pulls her and Kobra out of two bar brawls, joins them in one, and she lets a pretty little girl with skinny wrists and too shiny shoes think she has a chance before sending her back off to the safe-spots, a warning against slumming whispered into her throat and the feel of Poison’s gun at her back.

She’s Party fucking Poison, and she doesn’t sleep, and her boys stick with her longer than they ever would before. The kid watches her with big eyes, and Poison fucking _aches_.

They don’t see Gee or her boys, and that’s fine, that’s fucking dandy.

She doesn’t so much cave as fall headfirst, halfway through zone three and Kobra and Ghoul bickering in her ear, sky a rolling sickly green that means a storm’s on its way. Poison stretches her neck, listens to it pop, and Ghoul says, “I hear the band’s been spreadin’ the word at Shaky’s.” Kobra twists round to glare at him, and Poison catches him mouthing, “The _fuck_?” She just about makes out Ghoul’s shrug in the mirror. She drives for all of a minute, then wrenches the wheel round, sends both of them against the doors, serves them fucking right.

She’s Party fucking Poison, and she’s sick of this shit.

Jet’s back at base with his kid, something about her stomach – and Poison knows that fucking story; her hands tighten on the wheel with every twist of her insides as each mile spins by, and even Ghoul isn’t trying to talk to her – which sucks, because he’s pretty much the only one of them with any common sense in his head. And Poison’s seen him fight; the very idea should terrify her.

And all she can think about is Gee walking away from her. Cherri was right. She _is_ fucked.

There’s jokes all through the zones about what happens when the Killjoys walk into a bar, most of them piss poor. Truth is, the Killjoys enter a bar, you don’t know about it unless they want you to. It’s why Kobra’s already got himself a dancing partner and Ghoul has a line of shots he’s half-finished with lined up on the bar by the time Gee’s boys realise that Poison’s watching them.

(And she’ll give it to them, most people don’t notice her that quick. Not unless she’s got her gun someplace nice and soft.)

Frank’s mouth moves, says, “Fuck,” and she can see the swelling even with the shitty lighting Shaky Jake thinks makes him the shit. Toro starts forward, and Poison lifts her chin, bares her teeth, but Bob has hold of his arm, and to Poison’s surprise, it’s Mikey who comes up to her. And he’s another one of those tall fuckers, and Poison grits her teeth as he looks her up and down. Doesn’t pretend to be doing otherwise, either, and she can’t decide if he’s stupid or pissed off.

Eventually, he says, “She’s out back.”

Poison doesn’t let herself start, just takes the opening and runs with it, slipping past him without a word. “Don’t fuck it up,” Mikey calls after her, and she should let that go, probably, ignore the _again_ dripping off the end. Poison turns and lets her lips curl, shoots him some quick finger guns, and she’s pretty sure the only reason Toro doesn’t come after her is that Frank has his other arm now. Poison lets that curl in her stomach, bleed through into her smile. Whatever they think of her, Gee’s boys ain’t stupid, for the most part.

Shaky Jake isn’t one to waste precious juice on outside lights, not when it’s gonna keep the hookers and the intoxicated dustbunnies away. Poison opens the back door to mostly shadows and the noise of at least one person getting off on what sounds like a fan-fucking-tastic blowjob. She almost tells them to get a fucking room, there’s what passes for a hotel across the fucking street, when there’s a, “The hell are you doing here?”

The noises pause for not even a moment before they’re back, louder than ever, and Poison doesn’t close her eyes, but fuck, that’s her girl, and it doesn’t matter right now that Gee sounds rough as a zone rat’s ass. She’s a dark smudge against what Poison figures to be the band’s van, cigarette cherry-bright at her mouth, Poison can barely see, but she wants to hit the ground and make Gee drown out, outshine the loud motherfuckers behind her. “You believe I just wanna talk?”

“No.”

“That’s ’cause you’re smart.”

Gee snorts, and Poison’s pretty sure she’s rolling her eyes. “Flattery gets you nowhere,” she mutters, quiet like a memory, and Poison takes the opportunity to step right on up to her. This close, her eyes are darker than they’ve any right, shadows still streaking ugly and possessive across her nose; Poison’s smile is quick, gone just as fast.

“Y’gonna punch me if I say it always did before?”

“Did it fuck,” Gee scoffs, but it echoes hollow, catches uncomfortable in Poison’s gut. Gee sighs. “Poison – ” The asshole behind them isn’t exactly _quiet_ about his pleasure, and Poison doesn’t need to see shit to know the way Gee’s nose crinkles at that. “Get a damn room,” she hollers, then she’s got a hand tight on Poison’s sleeve and dragging her forward into the van. It stinks of – everything, sweat and smoke and all of it stale and curdled on the back of Poison’s tongue, but Gee pulls the door closed behind her and shuffles off to the far corner of the bench like she wasn’t just about in Poison’s lap, and suddenly the smell’s not the worst of it.

They sit like that for – fuck knows, too long, every one of Poison’s nerves jangling like too many waveheads spitting sand, and Gee back in her shadows, silent. _Fuck_ it, Poison decides, and opens her mouth the same moment she hears, “You fucked up,” because of course she can’t ever get the first word in.

“Pretty sure neither of us were on the side of angels,” Poison points out, because she never knows when to keep her damned mouth _shut_.

The seat creaks as Gee shifts, hunches over herself. “You could’ve killed Frank.”

Oh, that’s just _bullshit_. “I barely fucking touched him, he’s _fine_. Saw it with my own two eyes and everything.”

“You don’t touch them. You don’t _ever_ touch them, you hear me?”

“Loud and clear, baby doll.” She reserves the right to mess with their heads, they deserve that more often than not. But she ain’t stupid, no matter what anyone says, and she keeps that bit to herself.

She can just about make out Gee shaking her head. “I mean it,” she says. She’s so fucking frustrated Poison can damn near taste it, rolling off her in waves, and it makes Poison want to do stupid things. Makes her want to push back Gee’s hair, rub at where her jaw always throbs when she sounds like that. Poison holds on tight to the edge of the seat and doesn’t move. “You can’t keep – throwing your weight around. You pull that shit again and we’re _through_.”

Poison’s gut rolls, echoes of the last week throbbing through her veins, shaking down to her fingertips. The _idea_ – She pushes herself up, up, right into Gee’s space, pulls her in with a hand at the back of her neck and kisses her. Kisses her hard and wet until her insides settle themselves back down (Poison isn’t thinking about it, she isn’t letting go and she’s not fucking _thinking_ about it), and Gee lets her, kisses _back_ , fingers twisted tight in Poison’s shirt. Poison isn’t the only one who’s missed this.

“Not gonna hurt them, babe,” she says, eventually, forehead pressed against Gee’s. The van’s hot and sticky, Poison can barely fucking _breathe_.

Gee tangles a hand in her hair, doesn’t pull, and if Poison lets her eyes close this time, well. It’s fucking dark, who the hell’s gonna call her on it? “Promise me.”

Party Poison doesn’t do promises. It’s a whisper at the back of her mind, scratching insistent, and Poison swallows like there’s broken glass in her throat.

“ _Promise_ me.”

“Whatever you want, Gee.” It’s desert-rough and too open, too _honest_ for the dark of this stinking little van, but Gee makes one of those damned noises of hers, one of those _emotional_ ones. Poison crowds close before she can say anything, before they fuck it up again, before _she_ fucks up. Because that’s all she’s got, fuck ups and half-promises, and one day, it’s not going to be enough. She knows it, sure as she knows her fate lies at the end of a City blaster, as she knows she’s dragging her boys along with her.

But for now – hey, right now, with her hands digging under Gee’s waistband and Gee’s scrabbling at her shoulders, both of them _hungry_ , all panting mouth and bitten lips – 

Right now, what she’s got is good enough.


End file.
